“What?”
I yawn again. “I can’t give up my power. I have to protect you.”
I feel his head shake. “We’ll leave forever.”
“Not if something horrible happens to the queen and the Kythan discover your death will break their binds. You’ll be hunted.” Through the haze of sleep, I worry over whether or not I’m smart and strong enough to protect him.
He jerks up, and the sudden move jolts my eyes open. “Where did you hear that?”
“Candra,” I say.
His eyes are hard on me, his mouth turned down. “When?”
“The night of the attack.” My eyes flutter closed. It’s becoming hard to keep them open.
A long, silent moment passes. And when I hear him stir again, he’s leaning over me. “In the morning,” he says. Then he presses his lips to my forehead.
Chapter Twelve
Heated rays slash my face. I squeeze my eyes tightly, trying to block out the brightness. My head pulses at my temples, and I curse myself. After the Sekhmet feast, I swore never to get drunk again. Why did I do this?
The day before rushes back in painful flashes. Lunia’s confession. My stomach sinks, and I gladly welcome my headache and grogginess at the expense of lessening my friend’s heartache.
My hand runs over the soft sheets of my mattress—and my eyes fly open. A wall of painted garden scenes in bright colors stares back at me. Slowly, I rise and glance around, realization dawning. I’m in Xarion’s chamber.
Damn.
Panicking, I try to recount my actions of last night, but they come to me in snatches, glimpses of my embarrassing trek across the city. The barge ride. Arguing with Merrick. Xarion lying in bed . . .
Did we . . .? No. Xarion would never take advantage of me while intoxicated. But he would probe for information. I curse under my breath, worried about what my mouth let slip.
Scooting off the edge of the bed, I touch my toes to the granite, then push myself onto my feet. Dehydration claims my head, black spots swimming against my vision. Slowly, with my bare feet light on the cool floor, I slug toward the pitcher of water on the cedar table.
Xarion’s breakfast lies untouched next to it, and I realize for the first time he’s absent.
A splash followed by giggles comes from the bathing room.
My eyes clamp shut. I shouldn’t be here. Easing the glass pitcher back on to the table, I attempt to noiselessly exit the chamber. I get as far as the door when I’m caught.
“Star?” Xarion calls.
I release a defeated breath. “Yes. I’m here.”
“Come.”
My face flames as I begin my short walk of shame toward the bathing chamber. I pause at the open doorway, gathering my courage, trying to produce a logical excuse. I don’t want to be scolded for coming here drunk—late at night—in front of his servants. While he’s bathing. Naked.
It’s not that I’ve never seen him nude. I’ve witnessed it plenty. I’ve been made to take orders from inside this chamber before. And nudity is a common occurrence in Alexandria—like breathing. But my presence in such circumstances has always been for a professional reason; not enough time to dress for a procession before an order needs carrying out. Not like now in my weakened, befuddled state, where I can’t remember what I revealed.
I bow my head when I enter the room. As I slowly lift it, I struggle to keep my expression indifferent. Morning light pours in from an oculus above, illuminating the bathing pool. Heated rays bounce off mirrors placed below the circular opening to warm the water, keeping it a consistent, comfortable temperature. There’s a metallic flap with a cord used to close the fixture if you prefer cooler water. But Xarion does not. He’d have boiling water poured into his pool if it were tolerable.
Trying to center my thoughts, I focus on the colorful blues and greens of the mosaic tiled wall, my eyes avoiding the large oblong pool in the center of the room. Two female servants clothed in sheer tunics are seated along the floor on either side of Xarion, their feet tucked beneath their bodies, sea sponges in hand. They dip them into the water, then massage Xarion’s back and shoulders.
He sits forward, halting their efforts. “Leave the guardian and me alone.”
The servants set their sponges aside, failing to keep their pouts hidden from their features. I’m sure they’re angered over their job being delayed, or maybe they’re regretting being denied juicy gossip to share with the other servants.
I mentally slap myself. Why am I focusing on them when Xarion is glowering at me from across the chamber? Probably because he’s glowering at me from across the chamber.
Once Xarion is sure they’re out of hearing range, he motions me forward with his hand. Hesitantly, I step before the pool, my feet chilled against the slick tile, my gaze holding Xarion’s.
“Since you’ve deprived me of my servants, take a sponge.” He nods at one of the sea sponges next to him.
My mouth parts, ready to argue that he dismissed them, but I snap it closed. He doesn’t want to discuss whatever happened in their presence, which I’m thankful for—there will be no palace gossip to spread. But it also means I may have said too much. Guilt settles in my core like a lead weight. I suppose there are worse punishments than washing his back. Though that doesn’t stop me from slitting my eyes and giving him my most affronted look.
A crooked smile hikes his face, revealing a dimple. I pick up the sponge and kneel behind him, tucking my shift between my thighs and calves. I’m tempted to dunk his head under water, like I used to when we swam in the sea as kids. His arrogant silence unnerves me, and I simply want him to tell me what I said or did last night. Stretching this moment out will only earn him my wrath if he continues to be cocky.
I dip the sponge into the pool, my fingers squeezing to soak up the warm water, then I massage his shoulder. My stomach tingles as I caress it over his skin. I’m fully aware of his nakedness, his proximity—the chill bumps that rise along his smooth tan skin as I work the sponge along his shoulder blades.
“They’ve done my back,” he says, and I note the huskiness of his voice.
Taking a deep breath, I submerge the sponge again and scoot closer along the floor to cleanse his chest. I’m positioned awkwardly as I attempt to reach over him. A cramp twinges in my side, and I adjust my position for comfort.
My knees hurt from the hard floor, and I don’t understand how the servants can stand this. I sigh heavily, again trying to get comfortable.
Xarion reaches behind and grasps my leg. “Star, put your feet in the water or you’ll suffer a backache.”
I bite down on my lip and let him guide my right foot into the pool, then place my left in. My breathing shallows as my legs graze his skin. As I reach over his shoulder to wash his chest, my inner thighs press firmly against his waist.
He leans his head back, resting it against my chest, giving me better access to reach farther. “Use lather,” he orders.
My insides flame, my hand halts its movement. “Yes, ma—” The word dies on my tongue. I can’t finish my statement, and I realize I’ve been commanded recently—last night? He’s commanded me not to call him ma—I can’t even think it!
I feel Xarion shake with restrained laughter, and anger flares within my chest. It grips me so unexpectedly I nearly dump the bottle of lather on his head. Instead, I hold it at the ready, my lips twisted, watching him try to hide his amusement.
He’s toying with me. I didn’t reveal anything about Candra or the Leymak or my fleeting, intoxicated wishes to run away with him. So this is a game to him, is it? I was worried that he discovered what his death would mean—that he’d not only have to fear Octavian and his legions coming for him, but possibly his own guardians, too. Only he’s enjoying himself. Making me wash him like one of his lowly bathing servants—relishing my suffering while my hands roam his body.
Before I can think better, I drop the bottle, place both hands on his shoulders, and push his head under the water.
I laugh as he reemerges sputtering water. He wipes his face and tosses his wet hair off his forehead. “What was that for?”
I cross my arms. “For thinking you could make me your washing servant, you arrogant ass.”
His brows shoot up, then he’s moving toward me quickly through the water, ripples lapping against his toned stomach. I’m not fast enough to escape as his hands clamp on to my thighs, their warmth sending a skittering shiver over my skin. “That was payback,” he says.
“For what?”
He moves closer, his hands inching along my thighs. “For the many hours of torture I endured last night.” At my confused expression, he winks. Then his hands clasp my waist and he tosses me into the pool.
The water is a shock to my system. I push off the marble bottom and break the surface of the water, gasping for air. “Oh, you didn’t!”
Before I can counter, he sends a wave at my head and then another, splashing without pause. His laughter mixes with my groans of annoyance. As he’s preparing to send another wave my way, I loose my Charge and zap the pool. Xarion shudders and curses.
“You’re evil,” he whispers, giving me a devious look.
I smile. “That wasn’t even my full power. Do you really want to see who will win this battle?” Accepting his silence as defeat, I begin to wade toward the edge. “I didn’t think so.”
As I’m lifting myself out, Xarion’s arms close around my waist. “I’m not done with you yet.” I yelp as he lifts me up, my feet splashing. His chest presses against my soaked back, and I’m now even more aware of his starkness. My face flushes.
Seating himself on the bench of the pool, he turns me about, placing my legs on either side of his lap. The action is so quick—and so intimate—I’m unable to protest. “Now,” he says, his strong hands anchoring my thighs against his. “Let’s discuss this Candra, shall we?”
I squint, attempting to focus on his words—not the fact that he’s naked beneath me. I swallow down my apprehension, and say, “I’ve told you about the Leymak girl, Xarion. I’ve nothing more to say about her.”
He gives me a strained smile, then his gaze moves past my face to my shift—to my wet, nearly translucent shift. I feel exposed and desired all at once as his eyes lingeringly take me in. Adjusting his position, he raises his knees, forcing me to slide closer to him. A gasp escapes my mouth when I feel his manhood—my garment the only thing preventing our skin from connecting.
“You admitted something last night.” He removes one hand from my leg, slowly drawing it out of the water to brush a stray, drenched hair from my cheek. Water trails from his fingers down my face, runs over my lips. His eyes follow its path hungrily.
I suck in a breath. “I’m unsure what you want from me. If I admitted something in my drunken stupor, you can’t trust it.” I shrug. “I was not in my right mind.”
He opens his mouth, but I push on, anxiety making me brave. “And how low of you to probe me while intoxicated.”
“Believe me”—his green irises gleam—“your mind was not what I wanted to probe.”
A smile cracks through my heated emotions, and I slap his shoulder. “You’re impossible . . . and vile.”
He chuckles, and I use the break of tension to attempt escape. I press against his chest and push backward, but he’s quick, capturing my hands and preventing me from moving.
Silence hums in the bathing room as I watch the rise of fall of his chest, feel his labored breathing beneath my palm. With a sigh, he lowers his head and stares at our hands, one on top of the other. “Is it true?”
My heart thumps wildly against my breastbone. I don’t have to ask for him to clarify. I know what I’ve done. I’ve confessed that his guardians may have as much motive as the Leymak to wish for his death; to commit treason.
Pulling my lip between my teeth, I nod and try to answer without fear in my voice, for him. I explain Candra’s offer to me the night of the attack in detail, then add, “I’m not sure if it’s truth, or if Candra’s simply employing a tactic—” His eyes snap to mine. “But, I’ve been treating it as if it’s not a bluff; why you haven’t been permitted to leave the city, why no other guardians are trusted in your presence without me there.”
He nods slowly, as if my seriousness over the last weeks is now clear to him.
“Octavian may not be in full control over the Leymak, but this scheme could be his way to try and stir a rebellion among the Kythan,” I continue. “I suppose it’s now time to prepare. Not every guardian can be trusted.” A flash of Fadil enters my mind. “And I wouldn’t trust the sorcerer with this knowledge, either. But soon, we’ll need to plan. Maybe consider finding a way to sneak you out of the city.”
Xarion’s features pull together in sharp, serious lines. “I’ll not run. I’ll not hide. I’m a pharaoh of Egypt, son to the greatest queen of the Ptolemies, and I refuse to cower against my enemies. The only way I’ll leave Alexandria is with you by my side, as my companion—free.”
I level him with a sharp glare. “I knew you’d say that. And that is precisely why I didn’t want you to know.” Lifting my hand toward his creased brow, I clear his dark hair from his green, brooding eyes. “A possible retaliation by the guardians is just one more weighted burden on top of the many you already carry. You don’t need the added strain. Let me deal with Candra and the Kythan. They’re my kindred. As long as I’m their equal—in both power and status—I can protect you.”
His head tilts, his chest expands. “This is why you won’t be with me.” It’s not a question. Understanding lights his eyes. I nod. “This is the only reason.” Again, I nod. “Then I refuse to let them keep us apart for one more moment.” And in one quick motion, Xarion captures my face between his palms and crushes his lips to mine.
I shudder under the intensity of his kiss, his lips desperately seeking, demanding. His passion overwhelms me, and I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His hands latch on to my waist, fisting the soaked fabric of my shift, and a low groan rumbles in the back of his throat. That noise does something to my insides. A fire ignites in my chest, hot and consuming, as it travels the length of my body. A low throb blooms between my thighs, and I press that ache forcefully against the hardness beneath me.
As his tongue delves deeper into the hollow of my mouth, searching, caressing—I moan, my fingers curling in his hair. I can’t get close enough to him. It’s as if years of denying myself this feeling, his touch, this pleasure is erupting like a volcano. And there is no way to stop the irrevocable damage its fiery path will cause once the molten heat is gone.
But for this one moment, all those fears disappear.
I want him to touch every spot on my body, kiss every inch—own me, and not stop until I’m too exhausted to think of the consequences.
He must be feeling the same emotions and physical need, too. His hands greedily probe my body, as if trying to memorize it. He lifts his hips, pressing the proof of his need against me, the thin fabric creating an annoying barrier between us. The ache intensifies, and I press down harder. Xarion shudders, his limbs quaking with want.
Forcefully breaking the kiss, he pulls back, gasping. “Don’t deny me your feelings anymore,” he says low. “I need you now—all of you.” He swallows, the cords of his neck tense. “I want to belong to you. Let me please you.” His eyes are heated. “Let me serve you.”
Without waiting for my reply, he lifts us out of the water, his arms securing me against his body. His eyes never leave mine as he walks us into his room, then lowers my feet to the floor. Trailing his fingers up my arms, sending shivers dancing over my skin, he reaches the silver clasps of my shift. With a click, the clasps come undone, and my wet shift slides down, pooling around my feet.
His eyes roam over my body, and a breath trembles past my mouth when he wets his lips. My whole being craves him, scared if he doesn’t touch me soon this moment will end. That it’s not real. I need to feel him for confirmation that I simply won’t awaken from a dream.
He steps back, and a subtle pain wracks my body. I’ve never known how painful the distance between us was before. I never allowed us to be this close, and after just seconds of finally realizing what I’ve been missing, the longing to have that closeness back is too much.
But he quickly returns to my side after retrieving something from the brightly painted console. With his hands held behind his back, it’s difficult to guess what he’s hiding. My eyes skim over his body, lustfully admiring his toned chest, stomach, thighs—the evidence of how much he wants me. And when he stands behind me, I press my back against his chest, needing to feel connected to him.
Sliding my hair over one shoulder, Xarion places something metallic and cool around my neck. I reach up and feel the smooth metal as I lift the multi-toned gold necklace toward my line of vision. The blue jeweled eyes of a serpent stare back at me, and my breathing halts.
“Xarion—”
“I should have given it to you long ago,” he says. “But you would never give me a moment’s peace to attempt it.” He chuckles.
A hesitant smile lights my face. Asp jewelry is given to show equality, and when a royal gifts it, they’re proclaiming that person royalty. Xarion is claiming me as his equal, his match. His other half. My eyes tear, and I jerkily shake my head, clearing the moisture away.
“This is so dangerous, Xarion,” I say. “If anyone ever found out—if the Council discovered—”
“I don’t care.” He runs his hand over my cheek. “My title be damned. I’ve loved you for ages. And I’m going to make you mine.” He lowers his lips to mine, caressing them into a passionate kiss as he guides my body toward his bed.
Chapter Thirteen
My fingers trace the smooth gold of my necklace. It’s coiled in the pocket of my tunic, hidden from the many servants, council members, and guardians occupying the palace.
As I caress its sleek surface, a small smile forms on my lips, the memories of this morning flitting through my mind. How Xarion delicately guided my body, knowing just where to touch to coax an intense response, rather than allowing my anxiety to control. The way my breathing ached in my chest as the pleasure seemed to become too much, my back arching, my legs trembling, and the sweet release that captured us both. It was so passionate, and he was so devoted to me, that my inexperience fled my brain. All I could taste, feel, sense was him.
Astarte's Wrath (Kythan Guardians) Page 10
